The Long Road
by Razzaroo
Summary: Where were you when the world went to Hell? Eve was in a mansion, waiting to storm the gates of the Apostles and grind them into dust. Now she's on the run with a stranger, a man with a Roman Numeral tattoo on his chest, and there's nowhere left to go but down. Set in the House of Bones AU.
1. To Hell

**A/N. Welcome to my Camp NaNoWriMo monster. I'm posting it now because I know I'd forget otherwise as I drown in a sea of revision and final exams. Anyway, these are not my characters; I'm just playing puppetmaster.**

* * *

_War does not determine who is right – only who is left. _**Bertrand Russell**

* * *

One of the greatest things about being a sweeper is the travel. The expenses, such as petrol and maintenance, weigh on Sven's mind but Eve loves to travel. She loves seeing new people, new cities.

While she was used to travel, the bus is something new. The entire vehicle rumbles and, when Train leans against the window, she can hear it rattling against his head. It smells odd, nothing like Sven's beat up little blue car at all; his car carries the faint smell of cigarettes while the bus has an odd, dusty smell. She can't quite put her finger on what it is.

"Hey, Princess," Train lifts his head from the window and inclines it backwards, towards the back of the bus, "Check out our fellow passengers."

She twists in her seat to look at the rows behind them. At the back, she sees a pair of men, one bigger and bulkier than the other with a shock of blond hair and a cross shaped scar on his cheek; the other man is shorter, weedier, with long black hair and narrow eyes. Two rows in front of them is another man with black hair pushed back from his face and a thin moustache; he's swathed in a black robe and a long, wrapped item is leaning against the seat next to him. Apart from Train and Eve, they're the only passengers on the bus. Eve leans back against her seat again and looks up at the closed air vent above her head.

"They're all going to join the alliance too?" she asks, risking a glance behind her again.

"Yeah," Train confirms, leaning his head against the window again, "Pay attention to them and you can pick up on it; they all have the same dangerous air about them."

Now that he mentions it, Eve can sense it; a strange, vicious aura hangs like a cloud over each of the men at the back of the bus. An odd shiver runs up her spine; she knows there's no threat from them, not here, but there's something about them that unsettles her.

Some deep, dark part of her brain tells her it's because she sees herself in that vicious aura, tells her that she was once worse. She shakes the feeling off. She's not like that anymore; she's a different girl, a better girl. She'll never be that way again. After this business with Creed's done, she can carry on learning the tools of the trade of being a sweeper, learning to protect people.

The bus lurches to a stop with a bizarre, almost death rattle and the doors hiss open. It's stopped alongside a ramshackle bus stop; the only passenger waiting is a little old lady with a faded purple cardigan, clinging to some shopping bags. Train looks at the number above the bus stop and stands up.

"This is our stop Princess," he says, pulling his satchel over his shoulder.

Eve slides out of her seat but she hesitates for a moment in the aisle. The old woman has paid for her ticket and had found a seat but is struggling with her bags; she'd had to put some down in the aisle to slide into the narrow gap between the seats and she's fumbling to pick them up again. Eve pauses beside her, helping to pick up the bags and set them on the seat next to the old woman.

"Thank you, love," the woman says, pushing a steel coloured curl away from her face before settling back into her seat.

The bus driver side eyes them as they get off the bus. He regards the moustachioed man's wrapped luggage with suspicion but doesn't say anything. Train beams at him and offers an oddly cheery '_thank you'_; Eve gets the impression he's mocking the driver but says nothing to him.

Train pulls out the map from the satchel. The other three sweepers look at him out of the corners of their eyes; the weedy one's mouth curls up in a sardonic smile. Eve ignores them as they set out on their own, instead moving closer to Train so she can peer at the map as well. He traces up along the map and taps on one of the grid squares where he's put a circle of red.

"Gotta make our way up here," he says, tucking the map away again, "Looks like a bit of a trek but it shouldn't be too bad. Maybe, I dunno, ten or fifteen minutes."

"We've been left behind," Eve says, nodding towards the other sweepers.

Train screws up his face and shrugs, "No point in rushing everywhere. If you do that, you'll end up worrying about stuff that you forget in your hurry. And then you have a face full of wrinkles before you're thirty." His face breaks out in a grin, "Hey, maybe that's why Sven's been getting so many silver hairs these days!"

"Only because of you," Eve shoots back, making her way up the road, "I'd suggest giving you all his responsibilities but you definitely seem to work better as a sidekick."

"Sidekick?" Train catches up with her, his expression one of mock horror, "I'll have you know, Princess, I'm the hero of this tale."

She rolls her eyes, "Isn't the hero supposed to only know he's the hero at the end of the story?"

"Hmm, maybe. Never been much of a reader myself. We never know; the information broker might end up being the dashing prince who saves the day."

* * *

The meeting place is more impressive than Eve had been expecting. She'd expected something smaller, more subtle. The mansion looks untouched, unlived in; her guess is that it's owned specifically for things like this.

The back of Train's neck has turned red from the sun but, apart from that, he looks completely unaffected from the 30 minute trek. Somewhere along the way, they'd fallen into step with the three other sweepers and the group of them stand outside the gates.

"Impressive," Train says, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, "Not what I expected from an information broker."

"Pfft," the blond man is unimpressed. He takes off his headphones so that they rest around the back of his neck, "I've seen better."

Train rolls his eyes and mouths '_bullshit.' _The other three sweepers head through the gate and Train hangs back a little before he follows; he scans along the rooftop, looks around the perimeter. Eve leans in close to him.

"What are you looking for?" she says, her voice low.

"Hmm, not sure," Train says as they walk through the gate, "Keep your eyes peeled, OK?"

Eve nods. She sees Glin, the intelligence specialist, waiting for them outside the front door. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile when he sees them.

"Glad you're all here. I thought you'd all be successful," he says. He sees that he's getting daggers glared at him and his expression turns outright amused, "Ah, did you all get sick of that little game? That was just a little joke on you all."

Eve glances up at the blond sweeper's scowling face.

'_We were mistreated by that game,' _she thinks, '_He seems to have a little sadistic streak.'_

He catches her eye before he gestures towards the door, "Feel free to go inside; you still have time."

Eve trails behind Train towards the door. She slightly in awe of this place; she's never seen anywhere look so spotless. Not even Rudman's place had been so…untouched. It's eerie. More than that, she can't shake the feeling she's being watched. The small hairs on the back of her neck are standing on end.

"Heartnet," Glin approaches them, hands in his pockets, "Good to see you here."

"Ha, after the shit that game put me through?" Train says, grinning, "No way I wouldn't come." He pauses for a moment, "This place really yours? Little big for guy in your line of work, isn't it?"

"I liked it," Glin shrugs, "Though, looking back, it is a little too isolated for my tastes."

Train studies him for a moment before slinging his arm around Eve's shoulders, "Whatever floats your boat, I guess. Come on, Princess, let's get out of the sun; my neck feels like a bacon rasher."

Eve shrugs his arm off. The hot sun beats down on the top of her head and she has to admit, the idea of getting out from under it is very tempting.

"Someone else arrived earlier," Glin says, "Had an eye patch, said he was your partner."

"Ah, damn," Train says, sounding impressed, "Now Princess, how does that beat up old car beat us here?"

Eve shrugs and follows the hallway through to the main living area. Leaving the heat of the summer is a relief. Inside the house is just as immaculate as the outside; it makes Eve think of a dollhouse. A modern and sparse dollhouse but it has the same artificial vibe.

"Sven!" Train says chirpily, striding over to his partner.

Sven was standing by a long counter, his briefcase at his feet and with a cigarette in hand. Whatever his training had been, he doesn't look any different for it.

"Hey, you made it," Sven says, lowering his cigarette, "Surprised the public transport didn't chew you up and spit you out. Eve would have been fine, by the way."

Eve resists the urge to hug him, "When did you get here?"

Sven glances up at a clock on the wall opposite, "Not too long ago. Maybe about…half an hour?"

Train snaps his fingers as if he's just remembered something, "So what were the results of the super secret training?"

There's a long pause between question and answer. Sven lifts the cigarette to his mouth and takes a long drag on it; he looks as if he's considering what to say, how much to divulge and what to keep to himself.

"It went OK," he says eventually, exhaling a cloud of wispy smoke.

Train fans the smoke away with his hand, "Great. Can't wait to see the results."

Eve glances round the room; Rinslet is completely absent, which isn't really much of a surprise to her. Rinslet flits in and out of their lives, somehow always being there when they need her and never really revealing what she'd been doing up until that point.

"Where's Rinslet?" she asks, looking back at Sven.

"Well, paraphrasing a little here, but she said that she's not a sweeper and not all that interested. That and she had to get back to her own work," Sven's expression is a little exasperated, "And that if things get bad, you should use Train as a meat shield. That last part were her exact words."

Yep, that sounded like Rinslet. "OK."

"She was joking!" Train says, sounding annoyed. Eve hopes that he realises that she wasn't being serious; he'd be an inadequate meat shield and she could form a perfectly good shield on her own, out of her own two hands.

"So, is this all there is?" Sven asks, looking over at the other sweepers gathered in the room, "I expected more…impressive numbers."

"We can't have everything Svenny-baby," Trains says, "Anyone you know?"

"Yeah, two," Sven says. He inclines his head towards the moustachioed man, "Touma Fudou: took down seven S-class guys in the past three years." He looked over at a young brown haired man who was sat reading a comic book, "And Kevin McDougall: young guy, pretty green, but he took down a drug cartel by himself. Pretty impressive."

Eve tunes them out. She notices another woman on the other side of the room, looking completely relaxed and at home around this group of men. Eve's happy to see her there, glad to see she's not the "token" female in the group; she saw enough of that in her books.

Glin is standing near the doorway that leads out into the hall. He looks troubled and anxious and Eve realises that he's positioned himself as far from any windows as he can while still being able to survey the room. He looks as if he's expecting something to go wrong. She slips away from Train and Sven and joins him by the hall.

"Are you OK?" she asks, keeping her voice low.

"At the moment, yes," he replies. For a moment she sees something flicker across his face, in his eyes; a flash of blue where there should be hazel. She blinks and then it's gone.

"Just the moment?"

"Well," Glin says, offering her the barest of smiles, "It could change. I need to do another security sweep; something doesn't feel right."

"…Do you mind if I join you?" Eve asks.

"I don't know why you'd want to," Glin says, slightly puzzled, "It's not that exciting."

Eve shrugs, "I have to learn it some time."

There's a hesitation before he says, "Well then sure. If your friends don't mind."

She glances back at Train and Sven to see them lost in conversation with each other. Sven's expression is deadly serious but she can't see Train's face. Sven catches her eye and raises an eyebrow; she mouths "_bathroom" _before she follows Glin along the hallway. He heads out of the front door and back into the summer heat.

The heat rises off of the concrete in waves, making the air shimmer and dance. The air is filled with the chirping of insects. Eve wets her lips with her tongue and trots to catch up with Glin.

"What are you looking for?" she asks him. That strange prickling feeling has returned to crawl across the back of her neck, "Do you have to do this whenever you meet up with people?"

"Anything out of the ordinary," Glin says, his tone serious, "Doing the work that I do, I've made…enemies."

Eve nods and falls silent. The pair of them go out of the front gate and along the road, looping around the fence and ducking through it again. The garden of the mansion isn't as sparse as the interior; it's cool and shaded with plenty of greenery. Eve waits as Glin examines the area, one hand at the ready to form a weapon if needed.

Glin crouches down and pushes aside a pile of dirt. When he stands again, he's holding the mangled remains of a security camera and his face is drawn in a frown. Eve's eyes meet his and, in that moment, they both realise that everything is about to go wrong.

Eve turns back towards the fence, wanting to go and warn the others while Glin carries on his check. Before she can move, there's a huge explosion around the front of the mansion. The ground shakes beneath her and she collapses onto the ground, her legs shaking. She can't hear anything except for a constant, piercing whistle and she can taste blood where she's bitten her tongue. Her stomach roils with nausea.

A pair of hands, slender but strong, land on her shoulders and haul her back to her feet. Glin grabs hold of her hand and pulls her away, keeping close to the fence, sneaking around behind the trees. Her head feels light and she sways with dizziness.

"Eve!" Glin takes hold of her shoulders again. His face is frantic, his eyes wide behind cracked glasses, a bright vivid blue colour. She blinks; his eyes aren't meant to be blue. "Eve, we need to go. We need to get out of here, get some place safe."

Eve shakes her head, pushing past the ringing in her ears, "We need…to help Sven. Train."

Glin's eyes search her face for a few moments, checking her over for injuries, before he sighs. His hands move off of her shoulders again and he rakes his fingers through his dark hair. He looks torn between helping the other sweepers and getting her away.

"All right," he says over the cacophony of voices and footsteps that are coming from within the house, "But we need to go quickly and quietly. Are you steady?"

Eve blinks again, trying to clear her head. The wobbly, shaky feeling in her legs has gone and she nods tentatively.

Glin leads her away from the fence, ducking behind trees for cover, heading towards a small side door. They creep in along a narrow hallway. Eve can feel blood trickling from her nose. She can hear the sounds of fighting coming from further in the house; she can make out the familiar rhythm of the gun in Sven's briefcase. Her heart aches. She should be with them.

A bullet flies past her, catching her hair in its trajectory. She whips around, her hair already forming two blades. A pair of Creed's soldiers stand in the wide hallway opposite her. Quickly, she clasps her hands together, forming a shield right as they start firing at her again. She feels every bullet that struck the shield, like stones striking flesh, and she flinches. One of them sets his gun down and draws out a knife instead, looping around to the side to charge at her. Eve moves to stand up but one of her legs cramps and collapses underneath her. The blades unravel and her hair falls down around her face again.

Before the soldier can reach her, a shimmering ribbon wraps around his neck and yanks him backwards, the golden weight on the end striking him at the base of his skull. The ma staggers backwards and collapses to the ground. It gives Eve a chance to get to her feet. She darts and dances around the second man, not giving him a chance to fix on her as a target. She plunges into a forward roll, her shoulder cracking against the ground. She grits her teeth against the blaze of pain that races up her arm and brings up her arm to smash a mallet against the man's head. For a moment he's still but then he crumples to the ground. Eve kicks the machine gun away and turns to see her rescuer.

The first thing she notices is the shining fabric wound tightly around the soldier's neck, constricting his breathing. His fingers are curled at this throat, clawing at the fabric in an attempt to tear it away. Eve's eyes trail up along the fabric to the man holding it. In terms of height and build, he'd be indistinguishable from any other man in a crowd. It's his face that stands out; his features are slightly feminine, almost delicate, and framed with shaggy black bangs. The last time Eve had seen this face had been after the confrontation between the Numbers and the Apostles at the castle. Then, his eyes had been mischievous and curious; now, they're filled with cold fury. It's aged him. She realises that Glin never existed; he'd been a disguised Chronos Number all along and she mentally kicks herself for not realising it.

Eve hears the soldier let out a choking gasp and snaps into action. She grabs hold of Number X's arm, throwing him off balance and causing the fabric to loosen from around the soldier's neck and slither to the ground.

"You don't have to kill him," she says, staring at him imploringly, "The others need you more than you need to kill him."

He looks down at her and his eyes soften slightly. The soldier has slumped on the ground, unmoving. Number X presses his heel against the soldier's mask, causing it to splinter and crack, exposing the man's unconscious face. He takes a shuddering breath before coiling up his weapon, looping it over his arm.

"You're right," he says, that icy gleam returning to his eyes, "Let's go and save your friends."

* * *

Much to Eve's surprise, the rest of the mansion is empty and silent. There are splatters of blood along the floor and walls and the air stinks of gun powder. Number X stays ahead of Eve, that shimmering mantle draped over his shoulders. He tells her it's called Seiren; when she asked what it meant, he only smiled and said it was hardly important.

The pair of them comb the room that the sweepers had gathered in. With one arm, Eve's formed a curved blade and, with the other, a shield. There are bullet holes in the walls and the furniture is smashed to pieces. Something skids under Eve's foot and she nearly loses her balance. Her heart leaps into her throat when she sees what it is.

Sven's lighter lies forgotten under some broken glass.

With the tip of the blade, she pushes the glass aside before letting go of the blade form and picking the lighter up. She turns to call out to Number X but he holds a finger to his lips before beckoning her to join him where he's crouched by the window. She picks her way across the room and drops into a crouch alongside him. Peering through the window, her skin crawls with fear and she wants to be sick.

There are hundreds of soldiers spanning the front yard, forming a semi-circle around the front of the house. Some of them are digging a long, deep pit near the fence. Her hands grip the window sill and she feels Number X's arm snake round her shoulders.

The other sweepers, including Sven, stand in the centre of the yard. Eve's attention zeroes in on Sven; he holds his head high, staring the soldier down defiantly. She can see his briefcase in the corner of the yard, discarded on top of a stack of weapons. Train and the woman sweeper are nowhere to be seen. Sven's mouth moves but Eve can't hear a word of what he's saying. The soldiers in front of the group of sweepers raise their rifles.

The world seems to move in slow motion. The rifles fire and Eve sees the bullets move through the air. She sees Sven's expression shift from one of defiance to one of horrified realisation. The bullets strike with bursts of scarlet and Eve watches with hot, wet eyes as Sven keels over, his blood pooling beneath him. A sob bursts from her lips even as Number X's arms wrap around her waist and he hauls her away from the window, lifting her over his shoulder and rushing her out of the house.

He vaults over the back fence, landing on the ground with a jarring thud, and the world finally catches up with her. More tears well up in her eyes and spill over, leaving hot sticky tracks down her cheeks. A ball of painful, aching grief builds up in her chest but it doesn't escape as a sob; instead, she screams in anguish, one hand gripping the fabric of Number X's jacket, the other pounding at his shoulder.

"_Sven!" _she shrieks, squirming against Number X's hold.

His hold tightens on her and she feels his speed pick up. She's deaf to the sound of his ragged breathing. In her head, she repeats a mantra, in time with every heavy step, as if going over the same words will make everything make sense: _he'sgonehe'sgonehe'sgone._

She slumps and curls against Number X's shoulders, her fingers curling to clutch at his jacket, her body wracked with choking sobs. She squeezes her eyes closed against the tears that still leak from her eyes; maybe if she closes her eyes, she'll wake up and it will all be a nightmare, an awful nightmare, and the image of Sven falling to the ground in a spray of blood will be erased by the warmth of the waking world.

Of course, there's no such waking. Eve is jolted back into reality when Number X collapses to his knees under a copse of trees. He let go of her, allowing her to slide off of his shoulder; she landed on her tail bone and she glares at him as he creases at his waist, trying to regain his breath.

"You could have done something!" she says angrily, her voice thick with tears, "You could have stopped them or given yourself up or something. You could have saved all of them!"

Number X looks up at her, his eyes bright, his cheeks flushed with exertion. His face is mournful.

"They weren't there for me," he croaks, "They didn't even know who I was."

Eve swallows and looks at the leaves littering the ground. She knows, deep down, that he's right. Even if they knew there was a Chronos Number X, they wouldn't know what he looked like. He'd already displayed his skill with disguises the day they'd met under the trees at Creed's castle.

In her mind's eye, she sees Sven again, his expression disbelieving and horrified, his suit stained crimson, his hat flying backwards as he falls. She bites her lip and chokes out a sob, drawing her knees up and burying her face in her skirt. Her whole body shakes with sobs.

"Look at me," she hears Number X say, "Come on, Eve. I need you to look at me."

Eve hiccups and rubs at her eyes with her sleeve. Does he understand that the world has crashed down around her? Sven's dead, Train's gone and she has no idea where Rinslet is. She's alone in the world, except for a strange Chronos Number with bright blue eyes. She peeks up at him, her eyes red rimmed and her face streaked with tears.

The shining fabric is piled on the ground beside him and he's holding out a handkerchief for her. She accepts it and presses it against her eyes, wiping away the tears that are making their way down her cheeks. It's then that Eve realises that she'd long forgotten what he was called.

"What's your name?" she asks when her sobs subside and she can breathe properly again.

Number X blinks, slightly surprised; the question clearly wasn't one he'd expected, considering the circumstances.

After a moment, though, his expression changes to a soft, sympathetic smile.

"My name," he says, "is Lin Shao Lee.


	2. To Purgatory

**A/N. OK, so this might be my last update for a little bit. The next few weeks are going to be devoted to my exams so writing will not be a priority. See you on the other side~**

* * *

_From the end, spring new beginnings. _**Pliny the Elder.**

* * *

Shao Lee carries her from the copse of trees, one arm holding her under the knees, the other around her waist. He's a lot stronger than he looks in any case; his smaller frame is oddly deceptive. Eve holds onto the mantle, which he calls Seiren. The fabric is smooth and runs like water through her fingers; she can see silvery threads of orichalcum woven into the fabric and, when she pulls it tight, they become taut and sharp.

Her eyes feel stiff and gummy from crying and her mouth is thick and dry. She feels a little pathetic being carried by someone; the last time she had been, she'd been badly injured. Now she has no such excuse. However, she rests her head on Shao Lee's shoulder, feeling utterly drained and exhausted. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees Sven falling again but she can't cry any more. She's almost completely certain that her tear well has dried up completely and she'll never cry again in her life.

"Eve," Shao Lee says after a while, "You need to walk from here. Are your legs all right?"

She nods. They've left the empty green fields behind in exchange for dirt roads and tired houses. Eve wobbles slightly when Shao Lee sets her down again but keeps her balance. He takes Seiren back and slings it over his shoulder, making sure that the ends don't trail on the floor.

"What are you going to do now?" Eve asks, following him along the dirt road. She picks leaves from her hair and attempts to brush off the dirt from her clothes.

"First of all?" Shao Lee considers his answer for a moment, "Get you somewhere safe. Considering your abilities, and your ties to the Black Cat, I that the Apostles aren't looking for you."

Eve remembers all of Creed's talk of nanomachines in the church the day he went after Sven. She shudders; she hates the idea that they might find a way to use her nanomachines to fuel his mad goals.

"And after that?" she says, "What will you do then?"

"Go back to Chronos," he says, "Tell them the details about what happened, if they don't know already. See about changing plans for that attack on the Apostles; they'll be expecting Numbers, but if I can convince Sephiria to throw everything we have at them, we should be able to take them down."

The road stretches on indefinitely in front of them, without end behind them. Eve feels hopelessly lost and has to place her trust completely in Shao Lee; he clearly has a good idea of where they are and where to go. She longs for Train. She knows that Creed wouldn't want him dead so there's an excellent chance he's still alive. At least if he was with her, there wouldn't be this awkward silence hanging between them, more oppressive than the heat, more uncomfortable than the thirst that parches her throat.

When she looks at him, Eve sees that Shao Lee's expression is downcast and worried. She wonders what he's thinking about, whether what happened at the mansion weighs on his mind and rests heavily on the shoulders of his conscience. Considering he was a Chronos Number, she thinks that it may be his failure in taking on the Apostles; thinking back to the two Numbers they'd encountered in Stock Town, she wonders how much stock Numbers put in their comrades' opinions of them. If it's a lot, she feels that he must feel ashamed about his failure to confront his enemy.

But then, of course, she knows very little about the Chronos Numbers. The two in Stock Town didn't seem to care about what Rinslet's companion had thought of them or even about what he'd said to them; all they'd cared about was that orders were orders and Numbers obeyed what they were told.

Shao Lee nudges her shoulder, "You can't dwell on it right now. You need to get far away from here before you can deal with it."

Eve swallows past the thick lump in her throat, "I wasn't. I was thinking about Chronos."

"Chronos? Why?"

Eve shrugs. Chronos has been a constant presence in her life, either hovering over her like a black cloud or humming in the background, quiet and easy to push to the back of her mind but never truly gone.

"Just because," her voice comes out quieter than usual, timid and hoarse. She feels like crying again and keeps her head down, her hair falling in front of her face.

"There's probably nothing I can't tell you that you don't already know," Shao Lee says, "Mainly because I'm not allowed. The Elders like secrecy like that."

Eve doesn't even know how many Elders Chronos has; she hadn't even known it had Elders, although it makes sense. They had to get orders from someone, after all. A chill runs down her spine and she shivers despite the heat of the day, rubbing at her arms. Shao Lee glances at her, concerned, and she's surprised when he drapes Seiren over her shoulders. The fabric is silk-slippery but it's clean. She looks up at him, confused.

"It helps," he says, "It's weird but it does. By all rights, Seiren is, well, a weaponised blanket."

Eve can't help but smile. It's more the concern in the act, the kindness of the gesture, rather than the cover of Seiren that helps ease that strange internal chill that washes over her. Behind her, she can hear the low rumble of an engine and Shao Lee takes hold of her elbow, pulling her off of the road and ducking into a ramshackle bus shelter.

The bus that makes its way along the road is worn down and is long past its prime. Shao Lee digs in his pocket for loose change.

"It can't be an awful idea," he muses out loud as the bus approaches, "I've always wanted to catch a bus I don't know and see where it goes." He glances at her, "Care to join me?"

Eve bites her lip and looks down the road. She doesn't have anywhere else to go. Besides, she needs his help in finding somewhere to lie low until she can get back to Annette, or even Rinslet. The bus pulls up alongside the stop, the doors hissing open.

If it can get her away from here, further away from that scene at the mansion, away from this piece of nowhere, then she's willing to try it. She nods.

"I'll stay with you."

The bus driver stares down at her as Shao Lee counted out the ticket fee. She reaches up to smooth down her fringe and picks some leaves out of her hair. She's suddenly conscious of how dishevelled she looks, with a tear stained face and tangled hair and clutching a length of shining, translucent fabric. She heads for a seat towards the back of the bus and examines her reflection in the window; there's a smudge of grey dust under once eye and she rubs at it.

"Where are we going?" Eve asks when Shao Lee takes the seat next to her.

"The capital," he says, "Biggest city in the republic. There, we can lie low and you can see about getting someone to pick you up. After that, I'll go back to Chronos and sort this out. We'll be OK."

With a pang, Eve realises that she'd left her phone in her bag, back at the mansion. She knows the numbers but she worries that, if it wasn't destroyed, the Apostles could get hold of it.

"What if we were followed?" she asks quietly.

Shao Lee doesn't answer for a while and she wonders if he even heard her, "I don't think they did. For one, they would have caught us up by now. For another, I don't think we're they're concern; I'm pretty sure Creed doesn't know I exist and I definitely wouldn't expect a little girl your age to be at a sweeper gathering."

Well, maybe he wouldn't but Creed knew about Eve, knew that she was inseparable from Train and Sven. She just had to hope he didn't think she was worth going after, at least not at the moment. If he has Train, he might be happy, he might leave her alone. Something dark and cold squeezes her heart at the thought of Train in his hands.

The bus rumbles along winding, dusty country roads and Eve watches as the world slides by outside the window. Shao Lee nods off beside her, one hand loosely curled around Seiren's end. The houses progressively become smaller, closer together, the driveways shorter. They've entered the suburbs and everything is still and serene. It feels unreal. It's been such a short time and, already, the mansion feels like a world away; at least, in the physical world. It all still weighs heavy on Eve's heart, dragging her shoulders down, tightening her throat and stinging her eyes. She dashes her tears away again and sniffs. She can't cry here, on the bus; if she can just hold on, wait until she's somewhere private, then it will be easier to get through this until she can get somewhere far from this tiny republic.

Looking away from the window, she finds herself watching Shao Lee. His head nods forward as he dozes and his fringe sweeps forward, shadowing his face. He has dark eyelashes that the girls in Eve's books would love to have. His ponytail is loose and untidy. He's an enigma to her, she realises, a dark shape through blurred glass that she wants to reach out and find out about.

She pushes that thought to the back of her mind; they're going to part soon enough, tomorrow at the latest, and there's little point in investigating a man she'll never see again.

She sighs and leans her head against the window, feeling the vibration of the bus shake throughout her entire body, and her mind wanders to how she's going to explain what happened to Sven and Train. She knows how much it would hurt Annette and Rinslet; her stomach twists at the thought. The idea of causing any more pain makes her feel ill.

The sudden stop of the bus causes Shao Lee to lurch forward a little and he's startled awake. For a moment, he looks around, looking slightly panicked. When he realises where he is and who's around him, he relaxes against the back of the seat, rubbing at his eyes.

"Sorry about that," he says sheepishly, "You OK?"

Eve stares at his faint reflection in the window, "Fine. You weren't out that long."

"It was still rude."

"Yeah? So is lying about who you are," Eve says coldly, her tone bordering on a snap.

He doesn't flinch but a flash of guilt passes over his face before he replies, "I did what I had to."

"Well, look at where that got us," Eve turns to face him, "Is this the outcome of what your leader calls 'what you have to do'?"

"This has nothing to do with Sephiria," Shao Lee says hotly, "It was my idea from the start. She sees it as a Chronos only mission, despite the bounty on Creed's head. She had nothing to do with it."

Eve narrows her eyes but doesn't say anything to that. She'd only met Sephiria Arks once and so doesn't have the greatest impression of her to know what the woman would do. She'd heard from Rinslet that the leader of the Numbers had been condescending and manipulative. But Shao Lee seems to hold Sephiria in high regard. For that matter, the other Numbers had seemed to have a high respect for her.

"But you don't act independently," she says, remembering the Numbers in Stock Town and how they'd only backed down after being reprimanded for going solo, "So she had a hand in it; she approved it."

"Because she didn't know what would happen," he responds, "She's not omniscient; she can't know everything. If you want to blame someone, blame me. I'm the one who devised it, I'm the one who gathered you all in one place. All Sephiria did was approve an idea that might have helped bring down a terrorist." He sighs and pushes his fringe away from his face, "I'm so sorry about what happened today. But Sephiria had no hand in this."

Eve slips Seiren from around her shoulders and folds it up on her lap before she gives it back to him. She feels a little ill; it feels petty and stupid to be annoyed at him over this but she can't help it. She can understand his loyalty to Sephiria. But she can't help but wish that the woman had vetoed the suggestion; maybe, if she had, then none of this would have happened. She'd still be with Sven and Train and they'd have found a way to stop Creed before everything went to hell.

She peeks up at Shao Lee to see him picking at the gold pendant sewn onto Seiren's hem. His eyes have become distant and full of an emotion that Eve can't identify. She's suddenly glad that the bus is empty apart from them and the driver.

"Nothing's going to be the same any more, is it?" she says quietly, any venom suddenly drained from her tone.

Shao Lee looks up at her and she sees that his expression is mournful.

"No," he says eventually, "This changes everything."

* * *

Shao Lee takes her to a small hotel on the edge of the inner city. It's a small, two bed room with a tiny en suite bathroom and a sideboard with a kettle, tea bags and a pair of white china mugs. Eve's been in a few like it with Sven and Train. The difference is that then they were a team, united and safe together; now, she's with a mysterious man who yields little information, in a strange city and the only family she's known is either lying dead in a lonely courtyard or scattered over the world.

She's never felt so small in her life.

"I have to go for a bit," Shao Lee says. His appearance has changed again; now, he has nut brown eyes and dark chestnut hair swept away from his face. Eve secretly marvels at his abilities. "To pick up a few things. I won't be long. Will you be all right on your own?"

Eve hesitates for a moment before she nods. Any earlier animosity between them has melted away; they can't afford to hold onto it, not while the situation is so dire.

"I'll be fine if I stay here," she says, "I wasn't planning on going anywhere anyway."

He reaches out to ruffle her hair up a little and the gesture brings back the memory of her first proper job as a sweeper, taken after a message delivered by Chronos Number II. It's odd since, compared to what had happened in Rubeck City, Number II's gesture had been so insignificant. She watches Shao Lee go, Seiren tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket, before she falls back against the mattress.

Where is she going to go from here? While she knows Annette would come to her if she asked, she feels awful at the thought of dragging the woman away from her business to pick up a girl who'd been looked after by her dead friend. She knows Annette cares about her but care would do little to soften the blow. She also knows that Rinslet would be more than willing to help her but she has no idea where Rinslet is; besides, having Eve with her might hinder Rinslet's work, no matter how much Eve has developed in the past months. Rinslet's work depends on stealth and Eve's come to realise that, at the moment, her skills don't lie in subtlety and stealth.

She sighs and stares for a few moments at the blank television screen. There are no books in the room apart from a leather-bound Bible tucked into the bottom drawer of the bedside table. She's not in the mood for anything religious. She doesn't want to read about forgiveness and floods and miraculous resurrections, not after what she's seen. After a few moments of staring at nothing, she gets up off of the bed to switch the television on.

The screen flickers for a moment before the picture becomes clear. It shows a news report about the birth of a rare leopard cub at a local zoo and Eve settles in to watch it. She could do with some good news and she's long since come to like baby animals.

"_The cub should be ready to face the viewing public in a couple of months," _the newsreader finishes the story with a smile. After a couple of seconds, her face turns solemn again, "_And now a recap of our main story tonight; a warning that some images in this report may be upsetting."_

Eve sits up as the headline changes: **Massacre at isolated mansion.** Her blood runs cold.

"_Police say that they have no new leads on the culprit or culprits behind a mass killing at an isolated house in Brookmill," _Eve can feel a nauseous feeling of dread rising up in her throat, "_The seven victims were all sweepers of various levels of experience. The police believe that the killing may be the action of a crime organisation out for revenge and advise residents of Brookmill to stay inside until the area is declared safe. We'll now join our correspondent in Brookmill for a more detailed report."_

The picture changed, the newsreader vanishing and being replaced by an image of the mansion and a man with black hair flecked with grey. His face is solemn. He was quiet for just a couple of seconds before he launches into his report.

"_The police report that the killing happened in the middle of the afternoon," _he says, those deep dark eyes serious, "_The isolation of the property made it the perfect place for such a crime to occur undetected. The police received an anonymous call at around 3:30 PM, giving an address and a plea for help. By the time police reached the scene, there was nobody left alive."_

The picture changes again. This time, it shows seven bodies laid out in a row, all of them covered in white sheets. Eve's throat works around the ball of hurt that's risen up again.

"_They were found riddled with bullet wounds and were identified by the licenses that were discarded in the courtyard. The police found them in a shallow mass grave, with a warning message addressed to another organisation, presumed to be a rival."_

Eve doesn't want to hear any more; she gets up at switches the TV off. The dam breaks again and rivers of tears run down her cheeks again. She goes back to curl up on the bed and buries the side of her face in the pillow. Tears escape from her eyes and slide down her cheek, dripping off of her nose and onto the fabric beneath her face.

Shao Lee finds her like that just an hour later, curled on her side with dried tear tracks snaking across her face. He drops the bags that he's carrying and makes his way to her side. She feels the edge of the mattress sink under his weight. He doesn't touch her; her just sits and waits for her to bring herself round again.

"_It _was on the news," she explains, pointing at the television, "I just…I thought we'd have missed it but…"

He holds up a hand, "I understand." There's a weighted pause, "You don't need to look so ashamed of yourself; it's natural to feel like this."

Eve has to admit, a deep feeling of embarrassment has curdled in her stomach. She feels like she did when Train and Sven first liberated her from Rudman; childish and all too dependent on someone else to take care of her and protect her. She'd vowed to leave that behind and she's slightly disappointed with herself that she hasn't succeeded.

"I know," she hiccups, "But that doesn't make it easier."

Shao Lee doesn't say anything. He simply gets back up to retrieve his bags. His disguise has slipped away again.

"Have a shower and see if you feel any better," he says, holding one of the bags out to her, "Take it from me, hot water and some soap can do a world of good in making everything fall into place."

Eve takes the bag from him and withdraws into the bathroom. He's brought her a change of clothes and a pair of pink flannel pyjamas. She catches sight of herself in the mirror; she looks terrible. Her hair is a mess; her nose is red; her eyes are bloodshot. She runs her fingers through her hair, easing out tangles, wincing when her hand catches on a knot.

She left her clothes in a pile on the floor before she clambers into the shower. The stream of hot water is welcome against her skin; it feels for a moment that it's washing away her stress and upset. Her hair hangs heavy and wet down her back and she takes the time to pick out the knots. The bathroom fills up with steam, fogging the mirror and causing condensation to build up on the walls.

When she's cleaned, and somehow feeling better, she wraps her hair up in a towel and pulls on the pyjamas; they're two sizes too big and hang off of her like she's a too big coat hanger. The fabric is soft and comfortable though and she pulls the sleeves over her hands, pressing her face against them and sighing.

Shao Lee's sitting on the second bed, one knee drawn up to his chest, his phone against his ear. His eyebrows are drawn together in a frown; Eve can hear a dial tone on the other end of the phone. She sits on the bed opposite and regards him with curious eyes.

"Trying to get hold of the others," he explains, pulling the phone away and scrolling through his contact, "No answer from Jenos. Or Sephiria, for that matter, but that's no surprise; no doubt she has a lot on her plate."

Eve nods. Reading between the lines, she realises that Shao Lee's nervous and on edge because of the lack of response. She can understand it; after what happened, she'd want confirmation that everything was OK at HQ, that nothing world-shaking had happened in regards to an organisation that controlled one third of the world.

While he tries again to reach one of the other Numbers, Eve slides off the bed and goes through the drawers in the bedside cabinets. In the top drawer, she finds a black plastic comb with thick teeth. She unwraps the towel from around her head and her hair falls around her in reedy strands. She combs her hair out slowly, watching Shao Lee's face. He looks distant and distracted.

"Damn it!" he says, looking at the screen of the phone again, "No answer at all."

Eve pauses in plaiting her hair. Something cold has seized her heart, "From any of them?"

"Well, haven't tried Number VIII or Number IV," Shao Lee pulls a face, "But I don't think they answer to anyone except Sephiria or Belze."

Eve frowns, "Train said that one of them is blind. How would he know?"

"Kranz? He has different ringtones so he doesn't have to ask."

Eve toys with the end of her braid and waits as he dials the next number. She doesn't like the look on his face; dread and worry mixing together. She doesn't know if it's because of who he's trying to call or because of the total lack of response from his comrades. She hears a long, loud beep through the phone and then a robotic voice announcing, "_I'm sorry but the number you have dialled is not available."_

"Last one?" Eve asks as Shao Lee scrolls through his contacts.

"For now," he replies. His mouth pulls up into a wry smile, "Bet Kranz isn't used to being a last resort."

Eve finds herself chewing on her thumbnail as the phone rings. She's trying to distract herself from what happened to Sven by diverting her thoughts to everything else; the flowers on the window sill, the embroidered pattern on the quilt covers, the buzz of the city below the window.

"Kranz?" Shao Lee's voice snaps her away from her thoughts. His tone is hopeful.

There's a low, dark laugh on the other end of the phone and all the colour drains from Shao Lee's face. Eve clenches her fists.

"_Kranz? That's the Number's name?" _ Eve moves alongside him and she hears that the man's voice is low and rough. There's a shouted protest in the background and then a thump, "_He hasn't been very forthcoming. Now the bigger question is, who are you? Are you our missing Chronos Number? Are you the little lost cat?"_

Shao Lee's frozen, his expression one of horror. The man laughs and the sound of it makes Eve skin crawl.

"_The trap is closing on you," _the man taunts, "_Chronos is gone. All that's left is to hunt down th—."_

Shao Lee abruptly ends the call and discards the phone with shaking hands. He leans forward and presses one hand to his forehead, letting out a long, shuddering breath. Eve only stares at the phone. Chronos gone? Surely that means Creed has overcome them. It would explain the lack of response from the Numbers; presumably, one of them has been captured.

She turns her gaze to Shao Lee. She hasn't seen anyone look so utterly defeated in a long while. Clearly, everything that he'd planned from here, everything he'd hoped would fall into place has been snatched away and scattered on the winds.

She decides that she can't leave him. If he's all that's left of Chronos, then he's a wanted man being hunted by a deranged megalomaniac. After her encounter with Durham Glaster, she'd promised herself that she'd help people, help protect them from those who sought to harm them; she wants to help him too, help keep him out of the Apostles' clutches.

At the end of the day, now they need each other. Now, they're the only ones in the world that either can trust.

"I'll stay with you," she says quietly, "If he was telling the truth and Chronos _is_ gone then that means that the world out there will be in chaos come tomorrow. If I left then you'd be alone in that. That doesn't sit right with me."

Shao Lee looks up at her and gives a weak smile, "You and me against the world. Sounds like fun."

Eve nods. He's not Sven and he's not Train; his presence isn't going to erase their loss. But she's not asking him to. She doesn't want a replacement.

Shao Lee stands up and turns on the television again, probably wanting to fill the silence. Eve stays perched on the bed, her braid feeling heavy down her back. The screen flickers into life and the programming has moved on from the news to a soap opera set on an inner city street. She wrinkles her nose up at it before looking to Shao Lee.

He's leaning against the sideboard, distant and mournful. He's a closed book, a sealed box, the contents of which she's so curious about. She feels he knows enough about her, including her vulnerability that she wants to keep hidden until she's able to overcome it.

This chapter of her life, with him, has had an absolutely awful start. Then again, what she's learnt from books is that a terrible end doesn't often lead to a happy beginning.


End file.
